Poetic Jealousy
Rhapsodies of Dickinson, Whitman, Wordsworth
and other writers of renown
lift my mind and soul up to the sky
then bury them in the ground.
With their myriad thoughts of love, life, laughter
and luscious lines of pain,
releasing me to worlds of wonder
before pounding me again.
With words that tease and please the senses
Of sight, taste and sound
From days long past, yet still they last
Eternally profound.
With their sagacious seeds of wisdom
planting jealousy in my head
for the words I write by day or night
are but a meager attempt instead.
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